Here are glimpses of some of the victims of the Sept. 11 attack on the World Trade Center.

GREGORY A. CLARK

A Sailor and a Gentleman

For months, the shy young Japanese woman working at the snack stand at the United States naval base in Yokohama knew Gregory A. Clark as ''pizza man,'' the name she had given him because he always ordered the same thing.

It was the summer of 1987, and by the time that fall came, they had begun dating. Eventually, the handsome petty officer second class left the Navy and the couple married, moved to New Jersey and had four children, who are now between the ages of 5 and 11. Mr. Clark, 40, was a computer technician for Cantor Fitzgerald.

Yuka Clark, the shy young woman who is now his widow, has written him a letter: ''Gregory, you were like an angel. You always made people feel so warm with your kindness and thoughtfulness, wherever you went. You rarely demanded for yourself; you were like a selfless saint. You had so much class and you were a true gentleman and you made us feel so proud. You loved children so much and gave and gave endlessly. Your smile and happy memories will never be forgotten. You will live in our hearts forever and ever.''

He was an expert skier, and his idea of a good time was to ski down a mountain that did not have any trails carved out of it. When he went scuba diving, he would descend as deep as possible, and would grab onto whatever fish were down there and ride them. ''He would take things to the extreme,'' said his wife, Renee. ''He was never afraid to take risks. He would always talk about how nothing could hurt him.''

He enjoyed fast trips in his motorboat on Lake Hopatcong, N.J., near where he lived, and friends labeled him the ''Fun Guy,'' because of his adventuresome streak and his abiding passion for jokes. He belonged to a joke circuit of sorts on the Internet, and e-mailed friends fresh jokes every day. His wife got them too. ''There were a lot of blonde jokes,'' she said.

But Mr. Nolan, 44, an assistant vice president for computer technology services with Marsh & McLennan, had a more placid dream for himself and his family -- a splendid house on Lake Hopatcong. They had begun building it and it is nearly finished. Now it is for sale.

THOMAS H. BOWDEN JR.

A New Jersey Native Son

Thomas H. Bowden Jr. grew up in Glen Ridge, N.J., about a dozen miles due west of Manhattan, and, like any self-respecting son of New Jersey, he was deeply, openly and emotionally loyal to Bruce Springsteen. He once argued to his skeptical father that the Boss trumped the Chairman of the Board as New Jersey's greatest voice. How, then, to explain Mr. Bowden's love of the Boston Red Sox? Even his mother, Sheilah Bowden, was a little baffled by that one. The best she could come up with is that her son had a soft spot for underdogs.

Mr. Springsteen would understand.

Mr. Bowden was 36, an equities trader at Cantor Fitzgerald. He started there in 1993, the same week as the first terror attack on the World Trade Center. He and his wife, Deborah, had two children, Sara, 22 months, and Alyson, born two weeks early on Aug. 31. His family now views this last fact as a small gift from God.

One of his finest qualities, his mother said, was a fierce protectiveness of family and friends. He remained close to boys he first met in grade school. Early in the morning he would stand over Sara's crib, fortifying himself with her smile. Now, thanks to his friends, she has a necklace with a silver heart engraved with his initials.

WILLIAM CASPAR

Steeped in Hard Work

''A Kansas farm boy'' -- that is how people describe William Caspar, even though he was a data processing specialist for Marsh & McLennan who could create highly detailed electronic forms.

But every summer, Mr. Caspar would return to the Kansas farm that has been in his family for five generations so he could help with the wheat harvest.

At Marsh & McLennan, Mr. Caspar, 57, would often work long hours, a habit he picked up on the farm. ''You start work when the sun comes up, and you go to sleep when the sun goes down,'' Tony Alaimo, a colleague, quoted Mr. Caspar as saying. ''That's how we were raised.''

Mr. Caspar, who had been divorced for many years, spent holidays with his sister's family in Scituate, Mass. ''He was a good role model to have around my children,'' said the sister, Margaret Richardson. For years, Mr. Caspar worked out of a Princeton, N.J., office with a small group of people who often socialized together on weekends and grew very close. They were transferred to the World Trade Center in February.

DAPHNE FERLINDA ELDER

A Loyal, Doting Daughter

Sept. 11 was Daphne Ferlinda Elder's first day back at work after a glorious week of vacation with her sister. A business analyst at Marsh & McLennan, at 2 World Trade Center, Ms. Elder was expected in at 10 a.m. on some days, 8:30 a.m. on others. That Tuesday was an early day.

Jimmy Elder, Daphne's father, was a few blocks north of the twin towers when the first plane crashed. ''I thought it was an accident but then the other plane hit,'' he said. His cell phone rang, but all he heard was static. ''It had to be her.''

All day Mr. Elder stayed as close to the scene as possible, hoping for news of his daughter, 36. He went home around 10 p.m.

The family of four children that Mr. Elder and his wife, Josephine, raised in Upper Manhattan was always close. One happy memory: a 1993 trip to Disney World where they all swam, fished and picked oranges. Even though the children were scattered across the metropolitan area, all six got together for lunch every Saturday. ''Daphne was a loving person,'' Mr. Elder said. ''She called me every day to find out how I'm doing, what did I eat, did I get some rest. That's what I really miss.''

DAVID R. LEISTMAN

Avatar of Sportsmanship

Scores of lacrosse players, old and young, came to David R. Leistman's memorial Mass in Garden City, on Long Island, on Sept. 22. Many were in their early 40's. They had played with Mr. Leistman in high school and at Adelphi University, where he was an all-American midfielder who helped the team win national championships in 1979 and 1981.

Many others, both boys and girls, were teenagers and younger. Mr. Leistman, 43, had coached them over the last 10 years in Garden City.

''More than skills, he taught love of the game and the values of competition, team work and sportsmanship,'' said Dennis Barry, the director of the Garden City Rams Lacrosse program. ''Winning was not the only thing.''

Besides achieving stardom at Adelphi, Mr. Leistman, a bond trader and partner at Cantor Fitzgerald, met his wife, Maryclair, there. They married in 1983 and had two children, Brian, 13, and Katie, 12.

JOSEPH J. COPPO

Every Kid's Coach

''You don't know Joe Coppo, and you do,'' Mike Lupica wrote in The Daily News two Sundays after the attacks. ''Every town, if it is lucky, has somebody like him, the guy who doesn't just want to coach his own kids but all the kids.''

Joseph J. Coppo, 47, a burly municipal bond trader at Cantor Fitzgerald, coached all four of his children, and hundreds of other children in New Canaan, Conn.

''He was very demanding, but he was someone you always wanted to work hard for,'' said his daughter, Kathleen, 22, who played center field for him on a softball team. This summer, Mr. Coppo coached his youngest son's All-Star baseball team. Theplayers, 13 years old, attended his funeral in their uniforms.

Kathleen Coppo, who described her father as ''my best friend, the first person I turned to for anything,'' teaches a class on social justice at a small Catholic girls school. Recently one of her students asked her whether Sept. 11 had caused her to abandon her pacifist beliefs. No, she replied -- an answer, she said, that might have pleased her father, who considered applying for conscientious-objector status when he was drafted just as the Vietnam War was ending. ''He was not into war,'' she said.

MAILE RACHEL HALE

A Renaissance Woman

Well-rounded is too pale a term for Maile Rachel Hale. Her heart was in dancing -- ballet and, later, modern. She was a chemistry major in college. And at 26, she was the chief operating officer and vice president of Boston Investor Services, overseeing the management of billions of dollars. On Sept. 11, she was attending a conference at Windows on the World.

As a young woman, she made peace with her shyness, said CarolAnn Hale, her mother. ''She was calm and quiet and really, really sweet,'' said Kimberly Gilbert, a college roommate. ''She would put together a party and do all the work,'' said Mrs. Hale. ''And when it was going, she'd be standing by the side, watching and enjoying people.'' Along with dance, her passion was the ocean, acquired while growing up in Honolulu. And chocolate -- M&M's, Dove bars, desserts. ''She was the craziest chocolate person ever,'' said Ms. Gilbert. ''But she thought, as an adult and professional, she wasn't supposed to be so excited about chocolate. So she was always sneaking it.''

CLARA HINDS

Courtesy and Humility

Clara and Hubert Hinds met in Trinidad. At 14, she could sew a wedding dress. ''As the years go by, we were getting closer and closer,'' he said. They moved to Far Rockaway in Queens after marrying.

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''Everything was for the family,'' said Mr. Hinds. ''She would bake and cook up a storm. She would go to work and would hustle home to be with the family for dinner. When the boys were young she took them to baseball. She was like a big kid rooting for them when they ran bases.''

Ms. Hinds, 52, worked as a seamstress at the Rainbow Room and Windows on the World. ''She believed in being polite and humble,'' said Mr. Hinds. She sewed for family and friends and repaired a 1929 gown for a Broadway play as a favor. ''She thought: 'God made colorful things, flowers, animals, trees,' '' he said. '' 'Why should we be prejudiced?' She thought: 'Life is too short to be sad. She hated people to be down.' ''

''I was pretty fortunate,'' he said. ''Most people say marriage is heaven and hell. For me, it was 31 years of heaven.''

EDDIE D'ATRI

Just a Working Man

Lynda Mari was painting her porch last fall when she was approached by a construction worker with an extension cord.

''Hello, I'm Eddie,'' he said. ''You mind if I borrow your power?''

Eddie D'Atri was a handsome, muscular fellow. ''I told him, 'You can borrow anything you want,'' Ms. Mari said the other day.

She asked him if he was a fireman. ''I just felt it,'' she said. ''Something just told me.'' He told her no, he was just a working man, but she didn't believe it. Her brother is a fireman, and something deep inside her made her fearful of falling in love with a guy like that.

But she did. They were engaged June 30.

Mr. D'Atri was 38. He studied nursing and was a lieutenant at Squad 1 in Park Slope, Brooklyn. He was crowned Mr. Staten Island in 1987.

Here is how to spell the name of Anil Umarkar's 14-month-old daughter, his most precious achievement, as specified by his wife, Priti: ''V for victory; o for ocean; m for Mickey; i for ice cream; k for kite and a for America.''

Although Mr. Umarkar, a computer programmer, is missing from the 103rd floor of the World Trade Center, where he worked for eSpeed, a division of Cantor Fitzgerald, his wife is determined that his ambition for his daughter, Vomika, will live on.

America, as in the last letter of Vomika, is the place where her father dreamed that she would get an advanced college degree. Although Mr. Umarkar, 34, will not be there to see it, Mrs. Umarkar hopes that victory, as in the first letter of Vomika, will come out of all the loss.

Two and a half years ago, Mrs. Umarkar, who has a master's degree in zoology, ''left all that'' in her hometown, Nagpur, India, so her husband could pursue his career. He loved football and had taken up jogging in Hackensack, N.J., where they lived. ''He was intelligent, he was very loving, he was a very thorough gentleman, and his work was his only hobby, just to work,'' Mrs. Umarkar said.

EILEEN M. RICE

'A Good Friend to Many'

Eileen M. Rice was a woman of many passions. Politics. Clothes. Latin. Her dog, Mozart. Her family described her as sophisticated, opinionated and caring, a woman who worked on behalf of animal rights and poor people but also indulged her fashion moods by owning 11 bathrobes.

Ms. Rice, 57, raised her son, Brian Keegan, and her daughter, Lesli Rice, largely as a single mother. She was an executive assistant for Marsh & McLennan.''She was meticulous in her home and in her work and in her person,'' recalled Patrick Keegan, her younger brother. ''I'll miss our conversations. She always talked about the underdog. She was unbelievably caring.''

Lesli Rice said her mother was her foundation, and self-reliance was one of the many life lessons her mother taught. Her mother also passed on a love for the classics and for the Latin she learned during the Roman Catholic Masses of a bygone era. ''She had a strong sense of values,'' said Lesli Rice. ''She took pride in her work and everything she did. I don't think I'd be where I am without her. She was a good friend to many.''

Leonard Anthony White loved beautiful things. He collected West African art to decorate his Brooklyn apartment, wore designer shirts, and cooked foods that were delicious to both the taste buds and the eyes.

And he was a big fan of everything that went on at Lincoln Center, ''the ballets, the operas, the shows, you know,'' said Shirley Nottingham, his older sister. ''He always bought the season tickets.''

The only one of eight siblings who had left their hometown, Norfolk, Va., Mr. White traveled often between his birthplace and New York City. ''He had a real attachment to home,'' said Mrs. Nottingham. ''He would come and do things for our 100-year-old neighbor. He called me very often and sometimes held the phone to a speaker to have me listen to his favorite arias.''

Single and without children, Mr. White, 57, a Verizon technician at the World Trade Center, paid college tuition for some of his nephews and nieces and never missed their weddings in Virginia. ''But he loved New York so much,'' said Mrs. Nottingham, ''I didn't bug him about retiring in Norfolk.''

KAREN LYNN SEYMOUR

Confectioner Extraordinaire

Karen Lynn Seymour's idea of a proper ending to a dinner party was a hand-made candy tower with brown-and-white chocolate walls filled with chocolate mousse and garnished with strawberry and blueberry coulis. Not long ago, she completed a 600-hour course at the French Culinary Institute, graduating first in her class. And she did it while working full time as a technology specialist at Garban Intercapital in the World Trade Center. ''She got home at 1:30,'' said William Dietrich, her husband. ''And got up at 5:30.''

Ms. Seymour, he said, took her passions seriously. She met Mr. Dietrich, her future husband, a bicycle racer, while pedaling in Millington, N.J. She started racing with him and wound up as New Jersey's fifth-ranked woman cyclist. When she and Mr. Dietrich rode a tandem cycle, she steered.

Three and a half years ago, she had twins. She had a lot of plans for them, said Mr. Dietrich. ''She wanted to take them bicycling and skiing and on trips to Europe, he said. ''She couldn't wait,'' he said.

RAYMOND M. DOWNEY

Firefighter to the Core

Raymond M. Downey was the battalion chief in charge of special operations in the New York City Fire Department.

Here's his son, Chuck, a fire lieutenant: ''Dad joined the Fire Department on April 7, 1962. Coming on in the 60's, they went to a lot of fires. The war years, they termed it. In 1995 he was assigned to Special Operations Command, SOC is the acronym, as chief of rescue operations. . . .

''He was on the Gilmore Commission to fight domestic terrorism. No one's going to see it all, but I don't think anyone thought of the World Trade Center. . . .

''When the south tower went down, there was a lot of Maydays. He survived. A lot of the top brass did. These are all guys with 30-plus years. They went back in. There were two young firemen, he told them, not in the nicest language, to get out of here.''

Here's Chief Downey's daughter, Marie Tortorici: ''Mommy, Rosalie, is Italian. Daddy's Irish. He would have been 64 on Sept. 19. He's very spiritual. He was in Oklahoma City after the bombing. Gov. Keating gave him a set of rosary beads. He wore them every day. Well, they broke, and he kept them in his pocket. He had them with him, because they're not home. . . .

''When I was a little girl, he was working three jobs to support the family, and he was always too busy to come to the school to do fire prevention week. Last year, when my daughter was in first grade, he went to the school for fire prevention week. I don't know. It's so sad, everything. But a good thing came out of this. My sister, my father called her the baby, we just found out she's pregnant. So she felt like it was a blessing from my father.''

Correction: October 24, 2001, Wednesday A picture caption on Monday about student volunteers who were planting daffodil bulbs at DeWitt Clinton Park in Manhattan in memory of the World Trade Center victims misidentified the student in the foreground. She was Nadeen Henderson; Leslie Tapia, another volunteer, was not in the picture.